


The Secret

by geeksthetics



Series: The Secret [1]
Category: The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, LGBTQ Characters, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon Fix-It, finally some gay in the series, takes place after the books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeksthetics/pseuds/geeksthetics
Summary: The first Selection held since that of Queen Eadlyn's and two of the country's favorite competitors are far from interested in the Crowned Prince.Valeria Amaris. Two. Model. She never wanted to be selected to compete. Not truly. She already had a bright future ahead of her, yet she threw it all away in a moment of spite. And now she could possibly be throwing away a second chance at a bright future for someone she never believed would become so important to her.Mairi Oleander. Seven. Gardener. She never expected to be selected to compete. Now that she was inside of the Selection, she needed to be doing her best to become queen. Instead, she was doing her best to push down the feelings she had for another.A competition where only thirty-three girls compete for the hand of the prince while the two others skirt around the cameras, gossiping competitors, and laws to hide their love for each other. The Selection is no longer a competition where girls become the next Queen of Illéa, it's a competition of who can hold the most secrets from the entire country.





	The Secret

The Selection: a competition where thirty-five people would be Selected to compete for the heart and hand of the crowned Illéan heir. It had been almost a century since the last Selection. Now, several decades after the end of the Illéan Civil War, the country was holding its first Selection since that of Queen Eadlyn.

While I normally wouldn’t have cared all too much about a competition where contestants competed for the bachelor’s affections, this one was important. Not only would this competition determine who would become the future Queen of Illéa, but I had applied to become a competitor.

Leaning my head against the headrest of the sofa, I regretted, not for the first time, my sending of the application. What in the world had I been thinking? _I had a fiancé, for Pete’s sake_. How was I possibly going to explain to him that I had sent in an application to compete in the Selection _because my friends had dared me_? I doubt that the straightedge that held him together allowed for him to find any humor in the situation. It helped less that I had only decided to submit an a real application out of spite after a heated argument that I had incorrectly believed to be the end of our relationship.

 _If_ you get Selected, I firmly reminded myself. The Selection contestants are said to be picked at random and the odds were slim for me to be picked out of hundreds upon thousands of other Illéan girls within the ages of sixteen and twenty. The odds were even slimmer since it had been announced that the Selection would be open to every caste except for Eights. So, I wouldn’t be Selected and my fiancé and his family as well as my own would never have to know that I had applied and everything would turn out perfect.

If any of that were true, then why couldn’t I loosen the knots in my stomach?

“Has it started yet?” my mother called out as she descended from the grand staircase that led directly into the foyer which opened up into the living room where my father and I were seated. The pristine white leather couches resisted our movements as my father and I shifted to make room for my mother who plopped herself in between us. My mother’s dark hair whipped my face as she quickly spun her head in the direction of the kitchen to call for one of the servants to bring us some drinks and snacks.

Peeling some strands of her hair out of my mouth, I whined, “You know, we don’t have to make a huge fuss out of this. It’s just naming a bunch of girls and their castes. What’s the big deal?” I hoped they couldn’t hear the strain in my voice that I was trying so desperately to hide behind the façade of a petulant daughter who wanted to watch the latest movie with her friends instead of being holed up in her house watching the latest _Illéan Capital Report_ with her parents. I didn’t want to be here to see my face pop up on the side of the screen as the host of the _Report_ , Mateo Nako, announced my name and caste to the entire country.

 _You’re not going to get picked, you’re not going to get picked, you’re not going to get picked_ , I repeated to myself like a mantra. I breathed slowly in an attempt to calm my sprinting heart. My heart wildly thudded in my ears and I was afraid that my parents and even the servants on the second floor would hear it. Luckily nobody seemed to notice the incessant thumping.

I knew that if I weren’t in the living room watching the _Capital Report,_ I would be doing so with my friends or through shop windows. Everyone in Illéa would be watching the _Capital Report_ tonight. Any other Friday night of the year it would have been considered, at the very least, unwise to miss a report as that was our main source of updates on current affairs, but whenever a Selection was in progress, it was absolutely unfathomable to miss a weekly report. The Selection wasn’t only the best fodder for royal gossip, it was also what everyone used to size up the future queen of our country. We as the people of Illéa have the opportunity to know beforehand what kind of a queen we’ll get before she’s even chosen and we’re going to take advantage of that. All of this my father reminded me as he waved the remote in the air in a knowing manner.

I only rolled my eyes. I didn’t care about any of it, not now at least. All I cared about at the moment was reminding myself of the slim chance of being picked to compete and swearing to everything holy that I would immediately call my fiancé and have a much-needed conversation about our relationship the moment the _Capital Report_ ended.

A thought itched at the back of my head: _Tell them now._

No. I couldn’t tell my parents that I had decided to send an application in. They had been so happy when I had started dating Max and absolutely elated when we had told them that we were engaged. My parents wanted me to be happy and they thought that I had found that happiness in my relationship with Max. They were always asking me whether any decision Max and I had agreed to was something I was comfortable with and had emphasized that I didn’t need to do anything in the relationship that I didn’t feel comfortable with doing. Telling them that I hadn’t even bothered to include them in such a big decision in all of our lives would tear them to pieces.

_Tell them now. Don’t let them find out through a nationwide news report._

_If, if, if, if._ I repeated the word so many times in my mind that it started to lose its meaning. This was all hypothetical. My anxiety was over a situation that had very little chance of occurring. I needed to breathe slowly and clear my mind.

“Ooh! It’s starting!” my mother cried. She turned her head to shout in the direction of the kitchen which meant she was shouting directly in my ear. “Evita! Hurry with the snacks and come over here! You’re going to miss the _Capital Report_! Bring in anyone who’s not near a television!”

Footsteps scurried over. Evita, an older woman who had been working with our family for as long as I could remember, came into the living room holding some drinks and a bucket of popcorn, her niece and nephew Dela and Rory following close behind. Evita handed my parents and I some of Rory’s famous raspberry lemonade and the bucket of popcorn and sat herself on the recliner next to our couch. Dela perched herself on the armrest next to me while Rory sat himself on the floor at to our feet.

If I hadn’t been anxious I would have laughed at the picture we made. A family of Twos letting their Six servants sit on their furniture and watch the _Capital Report_ with them. While my mother’s side of the family came from a long line of Spanish royalty, my father came from a long line of Sevens and Sixes. He had been fortunate that when the caste systems had been taken down during the reign of Queen America and King Maxon that his family had been able to slither their way into the film business so that when the caste system had been re-implemented they had been re-caste as Twos. My father didn’t forget his lower-caste roots, though, and he made sure that my mother and I didn’t forget them either. Our servants and workers were to be treated as equals not as lower than us because we paid them to do the jobs that we couldn’t bother ourselves with doing.

 “It’s starting!” my mother trilled. On the flat screen the Illéan flag waved as an instrumental version of the national anthem played. Then the _Capital Report_ host Mateo Nako appeared with King Frederick, Queen Elhen, and Prince Derrick. Mateo bantered a bit with the King and Queen which made the audience laugh falsely. The Prince flashed a pearly white smile at Mateo that made Mateo mime a swoon and crack a joke about women falling at the Prince’s feet all the time. I couldn’t disagree with Mateo, the Prince truly was attractive. He had dark brown skin, short-cropped black hair, large hazel eyes, and an infectious smile that could make even me want to push aside my nervousness and join in on his merriment.

Dela sighed dreamily. “He’s so handsome. I hope I get picked to be in the Selection.”

Evita waved her off. “Of course they’ll pick you. You were one of the most beautiful girls in line waiting to enter their application.”

Evita wasn’t exaggerating. I had joined Dela in her application submission for moral support (and to secretly submit my own application which had been no easy feat as everyone knew me and my fiancé) and while many of the girls in the winding line had been drop dead gorgeous, none had that natural beauty that compared to Dela’s. She had olive-toned skin, honey blond hair, moss green eyes, and a splash of freckles across her nose that were accentuated by the deep dimples in her cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything close to bags under her eyes or a frown. She and Rory, who was basically a male version of her, were the two most beautiful people I had ever laid eyes on and I modeled with some of the most attractive people in the world.

Dela twirled a lock of her hair anxiously. “But the competitor selection process is random.”

The rest of us in the room scoffed. “Right. Random,” Rory deadpanned. If the competition were truly as random as it claimed to be, then why would they require applicants to submit photographs of themselves? Everyone knew that before those in charge of selecting even so much as looked at the applications they looked at the photographs first to sort the “unattractive” girls from the attractive ones.

My mother reached over me to pat Dela’s shoulder soothingly. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m positive you’ll get picked. You’re one of the most beautiful girls I know.” Turning to me, she added with a far off look in her eyes, “And you definitely would have been picked. If only you weren’t engaged. It would have been so lovely seeing you compete in the Selection!” To that last statement everyone including my father nodded their agreement. I suppressed a grimace. I really didn’t need to hear their confidence in me having been picked for the competition considering I had actually submitted an application.

Shutting my eyes briefly I reminded myself that this would all be over soon. Soon I would be in my room laughing to my friends over the phone about what a joke my application had been and how horrible the photograph we had taken of me had come out and how hilarious it would have been for my application to have been taken seriously – except I had made a new application that had been quite real and I had retaken a photograph of myself that had been deemed magazine worthy by the photographer and how my application would very well be taken seriously. I was an idiot. A certified idiot. I threw my entire life away because I had been petty and didn’t have a valid excuse to be so. I wished someone would smite me.

“Now to the part everyone has been waiting for,” Mateo trilled, turning to face the cameras directly, “here are the thirty-five girls chosen for the Selection!”

The screen divided so that the Prince’s face was shown in the upper-right corner to show his reactions to the girls’ photographs as they popped up on the monitor. How Prince Derrick remained serene and unaffected by the entire ordeal was beyond me. I was going crazy as it was, if I were in his position as the one who had to Select the perfect competitor to become the next Queen of Illéa I would be going absolutely ballistic.

“Miss Amberley Luca of Labrador, Three.” A pretty blond with full lips popped up on the screen. Prince Derrick’s tranquil smile didn’t waver slightly.

Mateo comically dropped the card that held Amberley Luca’s name on the floor and read from the next card. “Miss Mairi Oleander of Belcourt, Seven.” That sent everyone in the audience and in my living room into hushed whispers. So when they said that they would open up the Selection to all castes, they weren’t lying. Prince Derrick’s smiled widened as a girl with a splash of freckles across her burned skin and bright green eyes appeared.

My mother turned to Dela. “See? If a Seven can be picked, then so can a beautiful Six like you.” Dela beamed as the hope shown in her eyes.

As Mateo continued to drop cards as he called names and the screen continued to slide through pictures of attractive girls, my stomach slowly unknotted itself. The chance of my name being called was slimming and I could breathe easier.

“Miss Dela Baxter of Sonage, Six.” Dela smiled at us from the screen. Prince Derrick admired the photo appreciatively. Dela and my mother screamed in happiness. Rory and Evita jumped up from their spots and engulfed Dela in a tight embrace. My father’s congratulations were drowned out by own being shouted over the noise.

After we all settled down, Evita dabbed at her damp eyes. “We should celebrate!”

My father nodded. “Great idea. We can throw a small party for you.”

Dela smiled shyly. “You really don’t have to.”

My mother waved her off. “Oh posh. Of course we do! Valeria and I will plan it all, you won’t have to worry about a thing.” She squeezed Dela’s arm. “Get used to such festivities. You’ll participate in many of them during the Selection.”

Dela nodded. “You’re right. Let’s finish watching the _Report_ , though. I’d like to know who I’ll be up against beforehand,” she said with a nervous laugh.

I smiled. I was so elated for this opportunity for Dela. She would definitely get to the Elite without any difficulty.

“Hey, Val, that girl on the screen kind of looks like you.” Rory’s comment made me whip my head around.

From a quick glance, we could have easily been mistaken as twins, but with closer inspection I realized that the similarities were few. For one, her eyes were the same dark brown of her hair and not as round as my amber ones. Her eyebrows were naturally dark and thick while mine were much thinner and filled in with cosmetics. My tanned skin was unnaturally darker than her light, olive-toned skin. The girl’s face also held this kind of look to it that none of the other girls held and one I could never replicate no matter how much time I spent practicing in front of a mirror. She smiled a lovely smile but her eyes held a challenge, as if she were ready to throw a few choice words to someone behind the photographer. We had the same full lips and nose, though, which was actually rather unsettling. Prince Derrick admired her photo a bit. He seemed to have noticed that different look in her eyes too.

“Guess you’ll get your wish now, love,” my father teased to my mother as he poked her side. “You’ll get to imagine seeing Valeria participate in the Selection with this girl.” My smile was strained. I prayed that that would be true.

Pictures continued to roll across the screen, faces blurring into each other. Everyone had a comment to say about each girl, mostly to say that she was nowhere as beautiful as Dela. With each name, my shoulders loosened and I slowly joined in on the commentary. I was positive that I wouldn’t be chosen to compete. There was no way that if I hadn’t been chosen that my name wouldn’t have popped up closely after Dela’s.

Mateo held the final card in his hand. He said with a grin, “And the last contestant is. . .”

I rolled my eyes playfully. I turned to Dela. “I bet she’s not worth the drumroll.”

“Miss Valeria Amaris of Sonage, Two.”

My heart stopped. There it was. My picture smiling back at me.

I was now a competitor in the Selection.


End file.
